


to be seen

by abbyleaf101



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Ace Character, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Hair Pulling, Light D/s, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, dom jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyleaf101/pseuds/abbyleaf101
Summary: sometimes, Jon likes to watch
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 16
Kudos: 293





	to be seen

**Author's Note:**

> I am... actually really proud of how this turned out? What is this feeling, I don't know what it is. 
> 
> A big thank you to the discord for all their help with this, and an especially big thank you to rustkid whose feedback was really thoughtful and helpful

“Please.” Jon’s voice was quiet, pitched low and pleading, a hand not quite pulling at Martin’s hip. “Please, I want - to see.” 

Martin pulled back to look at him - a furrow between his brows, but expression open and clear. It’s not the first time they’d done something like this, but it’s the first time Jon had asked, had asked with Martin leaning over him, a breath away from their usual boundary line. 

“I like - seeing,” Jon added, darting a look down the line of Martin’s body, “If - if you want.” 

“Oh. Um - if _you_ want,” and laughed at Jon’s quirked eyebrow, a remembered remnant of past, less easy communication. “I do want. Very much. How do you want me?” 

Jon untangled them, clumsy with eagerness, enough to make Martin laugh again and tug off his shirt and boxers, waited for Jon’s “On your back? Please?” before wiggling into position on his side of the bed, lifted his hip easily for the towel Jon slid under him, for the mess. Jon reached into the drawer for the lube and hesitated, hand still on the woodgrain, sweeping a thumb over the edge. 

“Love?” Martin prompted, resting a hand on Jon’s knee, upper half of his body twisted towards him. 

“Oh, ah,” and now Jon was blushing, across the bridge of his nose and the back of his neck, where Martin liked to rest his hand sometimes, protective over the fragile bone. He finally let go of the drawer, and with only a moment’s hesitation brought the toy Martin kept in there with it, flush deepening at Martin’s tiny moan, expression tipping into shyly pleased. Martin made grabby hands at the toy, and Jon dropped it into his outstretched palm, shutting the drawer with a purposeful thud. 

Martin took his hand back from Jon’s knee and relaxed back against the pillows, shaking nerves out of his body in one long motion, feet planted on the bed and knees slightly bent, hands resting against his thighs. He’d lost the self consciousness about his body slowly, over weeks of shared beds and showers and easy affection, in the quiet spaces where how it looked mattered less than what it could do, what it could feel. The nerves now were anticipatory, fluttering and heated, reactive. Jon settled himself on the other side of the bed, crossed legged and facing Martin, a hand settled in Martin’s hair, a grounding point of contact that Martin turned into, pressed a chaste kiss to the fluttering pulse point. 

“Comfortable?” Jon asked, the first question of many, and Martin sighed, more tension dropping out of his body. There was nothing else behind Jon’s voice, but Martin answered as if there had been, as honest as he could be. 

“Yeah. Yes. Turned on.” 

“Then touch yourself. I want to see.” 

The words, matter as fact as they were, sent a roll of heat through Martin, strong enough to spur him into reaching for the lube, the toy. Jon set his nails against Martin’s scalp at the tail end of the wave, sends another shiver rolling down Martin’s spine to pool low in his gut, where his hands were starting to move. Martin made sure to take his time - Jon liked to watch, but it’s not so much about the _show_ as it’s about the act, the trust, the being seen. He can do it the way he wants to, although that does mean having to decide where to start, how long to take - 

Jon’s hand tightens in his hair, and Martin moans, pushes into it. It’s the only point of contact between them except for how Jon’s gaze feels like an embrace, and the love is layered so heavily across the room it pins him down, as thoroughly as Jon’s body would, pressing against his skin. Martin slides a hand down himself, bends his knees further, until he can reach between his legs and down, fingers slick against his hole. Jon makes a pleased sound, and when Martin rocks his head to the side to look at him he has that considering little frown between his brows, cataloguing with heavy passes of his eyes. “Just one, to start,” Jon tells him, and Martin pushes into himself at the same time Jon tugs on his hair again, pulling a yelp from Martin’s throat. 

It takes effort to keep it slow, to stay in time with Jon’s hand in his hair, tugging. The instinct to speed up, to change, to do - something, but only because it’s what he always does, the need to _serve._ But Jon asked to let him see, told him how to touch and where and when, and that’s okay too, that’s what he’s here to do, today - 

“Now,” Jon tells him, a sharper tug, and Martin slides another finger into himself, hips lifting off the towel. “Good,” Jon adds, after, warmth enough in his tone to make Martin shiver. “You’re doing so well for me.” Martin groans back in answer, turns his head to press a kiss over Jon’s pulse again. Jon chuckles, fingers relaxing for a second to ruffle rather than tug, and Martin preens at the punched out noise Jon makes when Martin’s fingers stop moving, too, as if there’s a taut string between Jon’s touch and where Martin’s fingers are buried in himself. “Oh, Martin,” Jon’s voice is soft, not really meant to be heard, and it sends another roll of pleasure down his spine. 

It’s easier to follow, this time, Jon’s rhythm. Wraps a hand around his cock when Jon tells him to, doesn’t bother trying to hold in the whine or the way his hips shudder, off rhythm. That’s okay, too. Jon wanted to watch, and Martin will let him see _everything_. 

“Ready for the toy?” Jon asks him, and laughs at the flat look Martin gives him, laughs more when he sustains it through another hair-tug-and-fingers, with barely a flicker. It’s not big, isn’t meant to be, but it does mean Martin will have a hand free, so Jon can see him held open and touching all the places the likes to be touched. The rounded head pushes in easily, and Martin spends long moments pushing it into himself, squirming his hips down to meet it, knees as wide apart as they can go. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Jon says, body leaning to the side to get a good look at what’s going on, or as well as he can while keeping a hand in Martin’s hair. Martin drops one knee down, to make it easier, and Jon hums an absent thank you and ruffles his hair again. “Oh, that looks - well. Like you’re enjoying it.” Martin groans, and pushes his hips up into his hand, swipes a thumb over the head of his cock where there’s a bead of moisture, does it again just for the way Jon’s gaze focuses on the movement. The hand in Martin’s hair flutters and adjusts rhythm to match. Martin gets his mouth against Jon’s wrist again, and it draws Jon’s eyes up to his - the eye contact makes Martin moan, head thrown back, pushing the toy into himself and working his hips back against it. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Jon breathes, voice hoarse. “You are - Jesus, Martin. I want to keep you like this forever. Where I can watch.” 

“Please,” Martin says, almost before Jon has finished speaking, sparks under his skin. “Please, I want - I need -” 

“Do it,” Jon says, voice sharp again, and Jon’s hand in his hair mirror Martin’s hand on himself and there’s Jon’s voice, still, and Jon’s gaze as heavy as a caress and just as tender, everywhere at once.

Martin comes with a low groan, his mouth against Jon’s wrist. There’s a little red mark there, after, that will fade within the hour - Jon had admitted once, cheeks flushed, that he wouldn’t mind if it lasted longer, sometimes. That looking at it was a little like looking at Martin, that he liked pressing his finger against that spot and remembering.

Jon is still looking at him, his hand is still in Martin’s hair, petting through it softly and soothing the slight sting from his earlier ministrations. His expression is leaning towards mild distaste, and it makes Martin giggle and then groan, too-high and overexposed, at the after shivers still running through him and the movement of the toy. Jon’s expression at that is - well. Martin shivers, lets Jon see him do it, and grins. “See something _you_ like?” Martin teases, and laughs at Jon’s playful scowl. 

“Maybe,” Jon admits, quirking an eyebrow at him that Martin returns, before Martin stretches his knees out with a groan and rolls his shoulders, his wrists, his neck. “I do like watching you enjoy yourself.”

Martin cleans himself off, disposes of the towel in the dirty laundry and wipes himself down with the warm cloth Jon brings him. His legs are a little shaky and every limb feels weighted down and fuzzy, sleep gathering up behind his eyelids. Jon presses a glass of water into his hands and Martin drinks it while he watches.

“Feel alright?” Jon asks, when Martin puts the glass down, and Martin beams back at him. 

“I feel great. How about you?” 

“I’m good,” Jon replies, that shyly pleased smile back, so impossibly dear in his flannel pyjamas and his long hair and his blush. “Thank you.” 

“Come to bed, Jon,” Martin replies, warm and sleepy, and Jon does.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi @ kneesntoess on tumblr!
> 
> edited 26/3 to fix some formatting weirdness


End file.
